


Long Live the Queen

by NikoArtagnan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, But the people of Ferelden are having exactly none of that, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, My knowledge of DA stuff and terminology is rusty, Not Orlais-Friendly, Racism, Slurs, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoArtagnan/pseuds/NikoArtagnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The people of Ferelden are very protective of their Queen.</i> </p><p>A collection of drabbles, letters, journal entries and the like detailing all the ways in which Gisele Surana's people deal with those who don't give their beloved Queen the respect she deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Amusing Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kylenne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/gifts).



> This story is essentially me swooning over Kylenne’s Gisele Surana through various forms of media. It is loads of fun to write, and I hope she likes it. :D
> 
> Also, it doubles as a Christmas gift! Merry Christmas, dear Kylenne, and may you have a wonderful 2016 as well!

_My dearest Giuvana!_

_I must apologize for taking so long to send you word of how business is going, for I have been all but inundated by it. It seems the men of Ferelden have a great taste for good Antivan drink, and I have done a surprisingly brisk business these days._

_Please let your brother know that what he suggested has brought back profit tenfold, and a great deal more than that._

_I was witness to quite the incident the other day, my darling, and even the thought of it now brings a smile and a hearty laugh to my lips._

_The world itself knows of Queen Gisele Theirin, the Heroine of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, and the Warden Commander. How can we not? What she has done…she is a legend walking, like the stories our Evan would beg of you to tell him before bed, before he grew too old for such “childish things”. It seems beyond belief that there are true legends that walk among us these days…_

_In any regard, I digress._

_I was at the market with my brother the other night, speaking with a Ferelden bar owner with whom we planned to sell a great deal of drink to, when an Orlesian noble came swaggering by, followed by an entourage of equally dandified fellows. He sniffed at our wares, sniffed at the wares of most everyone on the street in that way some Orlesian nobility have about them. You know, the way most people would look as if something rotten was held below their nose?_

_This would have been ignored and overlooked by the shopkeepers and stall owners – after all, Orlesian nobles had money, and_ stupid _Orlesian nobles are very easy to fleece out of that money – but then the colossal fool did something I still cannot believe he had the audacity to do._

_He stopped before a stall two down from mine. It was one that sold wonderful trinkets made in the shape of Queen Gisele, little pendants and bracelets and the like, infused with herbs and other woods magic, little things done by hedgewitches and those with power so miniscule as to not be any importance to the Chantry, and his face went through the most alarming of contortions, before he turned to his lackeys with a sneer._

_And then the idiot rang his own death toll._

_Giuvana, in a street full of_ Fereldens _, the man had the nerve to say, as loud as you please, “Who ever thought a knife-eared apostate whore could rise so high?”_

_The street went as silent as a tomb. The Ferelden man I had been speaking to stopped dead, and the look in his eyes…by the Creator, that was pure murder I saw._

_He turned, and in a thundering voice, bellowed “Y’got something to say about our Queen, you piece o’shit?”_

_The Orlesian whirled, puffing up like an enraged bird, even as the street watched with a sudden hushed anticipation._

_“You would dare, peasant?” he hissed, as his lackeys moved to flank him, all with equally foppish sneers on their faces._

_But several others moved to join the man, all thick, burly men and women, who had arms like smiths and faces like stone. I noted no mages or elves among them, as some might expect the Queen’s first defenders to be. They were simply ordinary, common humans._

_“Any bastard speakin’ of our Queen like that deserves a boot in the arse, you pansy faced horse’s arse,” the Ferelden man said, crossing his arms over his barrel like chest. Then he smiled, and the noble flinched away._

_“But, we’ll be real kind to ye’s and not take the full toll we normally extract from arses like you.”_

_“Toll?” One of the Orlesian’s lackeys asked nervously, wilting under a furious glare from the head noble._

_“Aye, the toll.” This from a woman in a stained brown apron who stood to the man’s left. She was smirking. “The money we take from people who think they’ve any right to insult Her Maj’.”_

_“Ah think the clothes off ya back and the gold in yer pockets will do fer a start, don’t ye?” A man with ink-black skin and a slow smile said from the woman’s left, and the whole street was cackling now, throwing out suggestions on what the men and women should do with the rapidly paling nobles._

_“Strip ‘em bare and go soak their heads! Wash the Orlesian shit out of their fluffed up feathers!” One enterprising soul yelled, and the men and women seemed quite taken with the idea._

_I watched in absolute fascination, Giuvana, as the men were grabbed and stripped to their underclothes, the sumptuous silks and jewels that had once adorned their bodies being passed around and out to the others._

_And having done such a thing, the men and women each grabbed a man, and hauled them off, the Orlesians shrieking and cursing, toward what I knew to be the main entrance to the city’s sewers._

_I turned to the elderly woman who sold fabrics in the stall beside mine, and asked “Does this happen often?”_

_Her eyes flashed with merriment._

_“Fairly often. It can’t be helped,” she replied with a wicked chuckle. “If we have to dunk the head of every idiot who says a bad word about our Queen, well, there are always a few strong backs up for the task.”_

Fereldens _, Giuvana._

_They’re all mad._

_But they enjoy a good drink, provide a good show, and that’s all that matters to me. And that idiot deserved what he got._ _I thought Orlesians were supposed to be_ intelligent _._

_But what intelligent man would ever insult the Queen of Ferelden to her people’s faces?_

**_~From the letters of Antivan merchant Enzo Laurien, written to his wife, Giuvana_ **


	2. From the Journals...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wandering scribe witnesses something at a tavern he stops at.

Soldiers have a way about them, of camaraderie and “manly” affection, I have found in my time recording the ways of the small folk of her Majesty, Queen Gisele Surana Theirin’s Ferelden.

They are normally brusque and hard-spoken, these men and women who risk their lives time and time again, for naught of duty and to protect the world from darkspawn as the Grey Wardens do, but for love of country and home.

They are more than willing to pass a lewd comment, flirt crudely with any maid or boy who catches their eye, and to make the bawdiest jokes about the esteemed leaders of other countries they can think of.

But not of Queen Gisele. Not a word on her physical attributes, beyond a passing jest at one young soldier, who blushed red-hot when their commander joked about them mooning over a small locket engraved with the seeming of the Queen.

This was bewildering to me, for I have been amongst the armies of many nations, and such jests at the rulers of nations, particularly when they are of the female persuasion, were as common as bread and water for supper.

But of Queen Gisele I heard not a word, beyond the aforementioned teasing when some younger soldier was caught sighing over her “glorious purple eyes” or “luxurious white hair”.

I had not been among the soldiers of Ferelden for long at that time, but in every regard they acted as soldiers sworn in every country did. What made these men and women different, that they spoke not a word in detriment towards the Queen?

At first I had assumed that perhaps it was fear, for the ways of the Prince and Princess Consort were spoken about in whispers, well-known and feared, _spy master and mistress, ex-Crow and bard, do not cross them_ , _not even whispers in the corners_.

But whilst I was at a tavern in the southern reaches, waiting for my current guide to return with our meals, when I discovered an inkling as to why this careful reverence actually was.

A group of soldiers was sitting at a table near mine, laughing and joking and flirting with the red-cheeked waitress who giggled at their comments.

Their leader was a brutish woman dressed plainly, tall and thick-shouldered. She had a face that must have met the wrong end of a darkspawn at one time and didn’t seem meant for smiling, but her dark eyes glinted with mirth as she watched her men joke and laugh.

But then a strange silence fell over the group, and every single eye turned to one of the soldiers who I thought must have been the newest of the soldiers, who seemed almost uncomfortable with the joviality of the others, in the way common to those trying to integrate themselves in a group not quite hostile to them, but neither welcoming.

The leader’s eyes snapped to the man, a long-haired fellow who looked as though he had some Orlesian blood in him like myself, and wore clothes fine (but faded) enough to suggest he might once have been nobility.

“What did ye jus’ say.” Her voice was the very essence of arctic ice, and a hush fell over the entirety of the tavern in the wake of it.

The fellow, obviously realizing he’d done something wrong, stammered and stuttered. I knew then he must have made a comment about the Queen, in the way of soldiers of other countries.

Perhaps he had a father who was a soldier from another country? Or a mother?

No doubt he believed that such commentary would buy him an in with these hardened folk.

And in any other country, he would have been right.

But here…

The woman moved faster than I have ever seen _anyone_ move, and without hesitation, grabbed the back of his head and smashed it into the surface of the sturdy wooden table, once, twice, three times.

I noted, as she finally let him go, flailing back to crash into the ground, his nose pouring blood, that every single one of the other soldiers had pulled their mugs and trays of food away from the table, which now sported an enormous crack through the middle of it, starting from the place the unfortunate soldier’s nose had met the wood.

The woman stood, and it was perhaps the most intimidating sight I have ever seen, akin to what I thought a dragon might look like, if it was given a human form.

“I’ll be real clear with ye’s,” the woman said, her voice like cold stone. “Ye don’t ever say a word about her Majesty, not wheres I ken hear it. Not wheres _any_ of us ken hear it. D’ye understand?”

From the look on his face, it was clear he did not. While he said something, perhaps cursing her, perhaps not. I risked a glance at the other soldiers, and all of them watched the man with avid, bloodthirsty glares.

“Orlesian _shitstain_ ,” the woman snarled, in response to whatever the man had said. “Yer lucky I won’t string ye up by yer guts. These scars on my face, d’ye see them?”

She stuck her face right in his, and hauled him straight off his feet when he refused to meet her eyes.

“I said, _d’ye see them?!"_

He stammered what might have been an affirmation, and she threw him to the ground.

“I was in the battle o’Denerim,” she said, eyes flashing with rage, scars pulled taut. “And I met the wrong end of a spawn who nearly killed my best friend when zir tried t’save me, killed my captain, and fucking near all my men. I killed it, but it nearly killed me. And I lay there, bleedin’ and dyin’, and I knew I’d never see my family again, nor my children. But then…”

Then, the scars softened.

“The Queen was at my side, though she weren’t the Queen then. And her hands were on my wounds, on my face, and she was whisperin’ to me _not to die, not to die_. Even as I lay dying, her magic brought me back. And when I could sit up without seeing the Fade, she went to my friend and saved zir life too.”

A glance full of emotion and fondness was exchanged between her and the dark-skinned person who had been sitting closest to the woman at the table.

“And when I was blubberin’ over that idiot over there, the Queen kissed my forehead and zir’s and told us Ferelden has need of good people like us two.” She took a breath, fighting for composure.

“We shoulda died, we both shoulda died, but _she saved us_. Saved hundreds of us as would have met the Maker long afore our time,” the woman said after a pause, and I will never forget the beauty of her face in that moment.

There was a look of such reverence on her face, such _love_ , that I felt my throat grow unexpectedly tight.

Stories had often been told of the Queen’s actions after slaying the Archdemon, but here was proof, in the beauty that it had brought to the face no right-thinking person would ever call beautiful.

“An elf maid, a _mage_ no less, and she saved my _life_ , saved the lives of hundreds who she’d probably every reason t’hate for their bigotry. She did it until the King pulled her off the battle field, her still protestin’ all the way, tryin’ to tell him she had more people to heal,” the woman shook her head.

There was a pause for a moment, while all of the soldiers nodded amongst themselves, and I knew that these men and women and soldiers were all veterans of Denerim too. Then the fire-rage returned to her visage, and I was once again reminded of a dragon walking in a human’s form.

“So ye will never talk about the Queen with any less than the respect she is owed, d’ye hear me?” she spat.

The man staggered upright, and made another comment, something along the lines of “dog lords” and…err… “female dogs”.

I could have closed my eyes with pity, hearing my guide’s amused chortle at the sight as they set platters of good food on the table.

The woman raised one scarred eyebrow, then turned to her men, who were all watching her like hunting dogs aching to be let off the chain might watch their master. She grinned, and the dark-skinned soldier rolled their eyes almost into the back of their skull.

“Let’s show this arse what we do with ale-soused cankers like him,” she said, and beckoned.

The men and women leapt forward as one, and they were on the shrieking man like, well, _dogs_ , hauling him above their heads and marching cheerfully out the door, the woman whistling along as she sauntered out behind them.

The dark-skinned soldier took a moment to speak with the waitress, leaving a generous tip, before hurrying out after their fellows shaking their head wryly, obviously used to such a thing.

“It seems Captain Beren hasn’t much changed,” my guide said.

“You know of her?” I asked, curious to learn more about the woman.

My guide laughed, flashing me a smile full of white teeth. “Of course I do! She was sacked from the army after she nearly beat a commanding officer to death for saying something insulting about the Queen…Well, it’s more like she left before she could be, and nearly half of the men who served under her, or were veterans of the Battle, did as well.”

“ _Really_ now.” My curiosity was thrumming, and I whetted my quill in my inkpot. My guide snorted, but continued, well used to me by now.

“Sure enough. Queen Gisele couldn’t overturn the decision, because the man had some serious clout in those days, but she made sure Beren was discharged honorably and given a bunch of honors and whatnot, which was only right. And Beren decided to form a group of…eh, fast moving soldier types that would be able to take care of incidents around places that the army or her Majesty’s other groups couldn't quite get to in time or dealing with small groups of darkspawn, in direct honor to her Majesty. They answer directly to her Majesty and Loghain.”

My guide smiled fondly, and I thought they must be closer to Beren than I had assumed.

“It’s all true, you know. What Beren said, about the battle and the Queen saving her life. Beren wouldn’t give respect like that to anyone who didn’t earn it tenfold, and she especially wouldn’t have been in Amaranthine if that hadn’t been so.”

I choked, finally connecting the dots.

“Are…are you saying that that woman was _Beren_ _Nomasdina_ ,” I asked in an incredulous voice.

I knew of the woman who had fought against the darkspawn hordes at Amaranthine as though she were a Grey Warden, though stories of her had been all but buried in the annals of thought and idea, eclipsed by the grandness of the woman she served.

“So you _do_ know her. She wouldn’t be happy about that,” my guide said with a smirk. “She gets all fussy and uptight whenever people do. She doesn’t like taking any attention away from the Queen, and gets plenty annoyed when people say she’s a hero. ‘The real heroes were the Queen and her companions! I’m just a partially drunk fool from the dirt with no parents and too many damn kids who stumbled onto a group of darkspawn at the wrong time!’”

Her impression of Beren made me laugh until my sides ached. I wiped at my eyes before the two of us tucked into our meal, which was not quite as warm as it had been but still good nonetheless.

My fellows at the university said I was mad, for wanting to record the histories not of kings and queen and nobles, but of “peasants and dirt-folk”.

But how else would I find such stories as could bring tears to my eyes? The ways and doings of those who do not rule, but simply live day after day, that has always been what I yearned to know.

My parents, who always called me a fool for wanting to come to Ferelden in the first place, could never understand my need to understand why people would give up their lives. But where else would I learn of the true grace and Majesty of the woman derided by other countries as an elven maleficar?

Where else would I learn of fealty sworn not because of duty or a need to advance, but for _sheer unswerving loyalty_ to a woman unlike any ruler I had ever heard of?

Perhaps I will stay a while longer in these lands. For all I have heard tale about “dog lords and mud rollers” for years, I find myself liking these plain-spoken, loyal folk, who speak of their Queen with stars in their eyes.

 

**_~From the journals of Orlesian student, archivist, and scribe Matthieu_ ** **_D'Aramitz_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beren Nomasdina is actually a very old DA OC of mine, who in her last incarnation played a role with her men much like Iron Bull does with his.
> 
> Even though I don't have anything to do with DA:I anymore, I thought she might be appropriate for this story and fitted her in accordingly.


	3. Accidental Espionage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A maid at Denerim Castle refuses to let an Orlesian ambassador speak badly of the Queen.

_Dearest Mama,_

_…I have had a wonderful time here in the capitol these past few weeks. It truly has been the greatest of honors to be able to work here at the castle in Denerim. Matron Roberta tells me that I am a tribute to my family, and I have even been praised by the King himself for my demeanor and respectful composure._

_Your teachings on etiquette have proven to my advantage these past months I have been employed as a maid of the castle._

_Well, I can tarry for no longer over this letter, as I must request it to be sent with Papa’s merchants friends, who have agreed to bring this letter back to you._

_Fondest regards from your loving daughter,_

_Aileen Bannbreker_

 

 ~

 

_Dairine,_

_Sister, you must make certain Mother is not reading this when you do. She must not read these words, and you must not tell her, no matter how she pinches and prods. If you cough she won't want to be near you._

_I have enclosed a false letter addressed to Thomas who will know to bring it to you, full of as much drivel and dreck as the four page monstrosity Mother expects me to send every month, and if you read what lies underneath it and keep the silence as best you can, I will take it upon myself to make sure that when you are well again that you will have a place here at the castle. You will be able to see the sun and taste the air again, and you may be allowed to go to Kinloch to learn! Like you always wanted!_

_I would never put this on your shoulders normally, but I must speak with someone, and I cannot tell anyone else, for fear of what I have done may get out. It is a hanging offense no doubt, and I shake in my boots as I write these words._

_Perhaps not with fear entirely, though, for I had_ reason _beyond thought to do what I did!_

_I wrote to you before of an ambassador who came to replace the current Orlesian one, did I not? Well, he was quite a sight. Handsome enough, if one likes these foppish Orlesian types. I myself greatly prefer brawnier men, or clever, trickster-like ones with smiles like pure temptation._

_Anyways!_

_I…well, he_ seemed _kind enough. A bit of bias, but that’s to be expected from men like him, and I think even Queen Gisele and King Alistair were a bit nonplussed by his willingness to be polite and respectful to the Queen, instead of insulting her in half-barbs straight to her own face._

_Well, I don’t know if the Queen was surprised, as she’s got a poker face that would put old man Darin down by the docks to shame._

_The ambassador was respectful enough, in any case, and it seemed all was going well._

_But when I was cleaning some statues down by the rooms given to the ambassador and his people, I heard him talking with one of his entourage around the corner. I hid in the alcove where the statue was, squeezing my body until I was hidden. I don’t know what prompted me to do so, but I’m glad I did._

_The things he said, Dairine! I can’t write them down here, they were so awful. Filthy, horrible words, slandering Queen Gisele’s good name, calling her all sorts of dreck and things not even the lowliest man would call a working girl!_

_I was_ shaking _, Dairine, I was so mad. How dare he! How_ dare _he! Our Queen, or savior, our hero, and this Orlesian scummer thought he had any right to say what he did?_

_I wanted to tell the matron, but I am just a working girl from the south. Who would believe me? And it’s not like he is planning a coup or whatnot, though his blabbering_ did _veer into what could easily be construed as treasonous talk several times. But all Orlesians speak that way, as does any dunce not of this country, and not sworn to the Queen._

_So I did something to make him pay._

_Before he died, Papa taught us many things about the earth and what lies in it, teaching us which plants would taste good, which would doctor minor wounds, and which to stay away from. I had found a small clump of some plants that had some rather…painful side effects earlier that day, and crushed them up fine and small._

_And when Cook wasn’t looking, I slipped them into the pitcher of wine poured solely for the ambassador._

_He didn’t react well, to say the least._

_It will forever live in my mind, the unholy_ mess _he made. It was_ disgusting _, and the smell was beyond belief! He had to be carted to the infirmary by those poor serving boys, Adam and Nico._

_I will have to do something as payment for them, later. Secretly._

_The Matron is at the door, telling me I am needed in the kitchen. I will write to you later, to tell you of how things are._

_Much love,_

_Aileen_

 

_~_

 

_Dairine,_

_Andraste’s Grace, I’ve never been so scared in my life!_

_It’s been three weeks since I last promised you I’d write, and it’s only now that I’ve been able to write down what has happened, so scared and shocked and confused was I. I have also spent several days in the infirmary, which I will discuss later_

_I was not summoned to the kitchen, but rather to a private chamber, escorted by guards. There was such a horror in my heart when I was shown into the chamber, and the door shut ominously behind me._

_For standing there were Princess Consort Leliana and Prince Consort Zevran._

_I cannot speak of what occurred, or all of what passed between us, for I have been told I cannot give details and I most certainly do not wish to, but I was certain, so absolutely certain that I was going to die. That I would be hanged for what I had done to a noble ambassador!_

_Instead, I…Dair, I think I accidentally stopped an attack on Queen Gisele’s life before it could be put into action! The ambassador’s…illness, well, it gave Prince Zevran the excuse he needed to put the ambassador’s men under guard “for their protection, since there was obviously someone out to get them”. And that, in turn, gave the Princess and Prince enough time to thoroughly search all of the ambassador’s things, as they’d suspected him for a while, though some politics prevented them from doing so before. Or something._

_And, well, I can’t say what exactly they found, but they found_ plenty _, and Andraste’s Glory, I shudder to even think of it. But it was devious and underhanded and had slipped straight past the guards and spies._

_The Prince and Princess were less than pleased by that. I suppose in their minds they believed they had come perilously close to letting down their Queen in the worst of ways, which was ridiculous, and I said so before I could stop myself._

_Both of them looked surprised by my outburst._

_And, Andraste give me strength, I kept right on_ going, _with my enormous mouth babbling some dreck Papa had told me about how the tightest fence will have a few holes, so that’s why you have other fences behind it to catch what the first line might miss, and that the Prince and Princess were only two people, and their people were only people, and people can miss things like fences do, and that we’re all fences around Queen Gisele in our way, and then even if you wanted to hurt her she’s a pretty impenetrable fence in her own right._

_I’m not exactly sure what I was trying to say, because my head was spinning and I was feeling a little weak, but I think they understood, because the Prince and Prince shared a look that exchanged a thousand words in one glance._

_Then they turned to me with equally impish smiles and I knew I was going to faint. What person wouldn’t in the face of such trickster-like beauties?_

_(The entire royal family is beauty personified, with the children just as lovely as their parents.)_

_And the Prince did something that further cemented my embarrassment. He ruffled my hair, and Princess Leliana gave me a hug around the shoulders, and they were_ touching _me, these lovely people, and I could have sworn I saw the Fade in that moment._

_The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the private infirmary for the royal family, the one guarded by the men and women trained by Loghain himself, and I was being tended to by Queen Gisele herself._

_I had never seen the Queen up close and in person before that moment, though images of her have been passed throughout the kingdom for years in etchings on pendants, decorative trinkets, and the like, but the muted beauty of those things, and the times in which I witnessed her from afar could never come close to a fraction of her beauty and glory up close._

_Forgive my effusiveness, but I can’t help myself._

_Her hair fell past and as white as the purest snow, and her eyes like rounds of amethysts. Her skin was the deep brown of the bark of those curious trees from the east, the little curving ones Thomas said could last hundreds of years, and were as beautiful as they were strong. Tiny but strong and breathtakingly beautiful. If there was ever a better descriptor of our Queen, I have yet to hear it._

_She wore sumptuous robes of a deep purple embroidered in silver, and gorgeous jewelry that could take not an ounce of my attention away from the grandeur of the woman they adorned._

_She tended to me, even though I protested (Queen Gisele, our savior, using her powers to heal someone like me? It beggars belief!), and then she kissed me on the forehead after telling me I had been running a slight fever. (Which I was glad of, in a weird way, because I’ve always know I was a flutterhead, but I was glad I wasn’t a total one)_

_And then…and then she thanked me._ Me _, Dair. The Heroine of Ferelden thanked_ me _for what I had done, and I was pretty sure I was going to pass out again._

_I mumbled something about “Only doing it because he was rude, I didn’t know,” and she let out this pealing, bell-like ring of laughter, and then I fainted again, because she had put her hand on mine in comfort._

_I_ know _what you’re going to say, but she’s just so beautiful! And she’s our_ Queen _! And the Hero of Ferelden!_

_I honestly think people should be a_ little less _judgmental when people are rightly overwhelmed by her presence._

_(The Prince and Princess Consorts laughed at me. But the King was very empathetic in that regard, and told me his reaction to her was not much better.)_

_I was released a week ago, after having a great deal of visitors who should not have been visiting an ill maid, ranging from the children of the royal family, to Commander Loghain, countless others, and the King himself._

_While I could do without the attention, and without the slight nudging I believe the Prince and Princess Consorts are trying to give me to persuade me to work for them (I’m just a maid! What business do I have in such matters?), I would do it again in a heartbeat, and even if I had known from the start what that scummer was truly attempting._

_Well, maybe I would have paused for a moment, but I still would have done it. She’s our Queen, and we’d all be dead or worse if not for her. And what she did for Thomas…_

_I never told her. Never told her that she saved our brother. That because of her Thomas still lives after he almost died at Denerim during that horrid battle. That his wife has her husband and his child their father because of her._

_Thomas is alive and can_ walk _because of her._

_How can I do anything less than protect her in what small ways I can?_

_I am but a mouse, like Papa always said. But even a mouse has her uses, and what better glory for a mouse than to be of assistance to a lion?_

 

_Love forever and always,_

_Aileen_

P.S. _I spoke to the King, and you have a place here! King Alistair said he would send mages and guardsmen to our house to bring you here, where you could live in comfort, and when you are well again, you will have a place here!_

_I…I told him about Mother. I’m so sorry…But they’re coming to get you! Queen Gisele was so angry, and I thought she was angry at me, because I left you there, but she wasn’t._

_And, and you’ll be able to go the Circle with Queen Gisele’s blessings, and everything, and you won’t have to hide anymore! The Circle is a wonderful place now, a center for learning and instruction, and I’ll be able to come visit you whenever I have a day off!_

_This letter will arrive with the guardsmen, the King said. And then you’ll be coming to Denerim._

_I love you, baby sister. I’m sorry I didn't help you sooner._


	4. The Heart of the Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is not only the people who love the Queen.

_You are in the field, the grass and the mountains, the trees and the lakes. You are in the ugly castles, in the mud despised by Others, and in the hearts of the dogs that are as much a part of you as you are of them._

_You breathe and you wait for him._

_One comes, and he brings you together. Your people become one under his rule._

_Your son. Your son and his son’s sons become your people, your children. And you?_

_You are happy. United._

________

_War comes. War that splits your people apart, war at the result of a tyrant beyond all hope, a son-who-will-never-be-so-again._

_But another child. A daughter._

_Your daughter tries and tries and fails to set you free from the man who makes the dirt turn to mud from the spilling of blood._

_She fails._

_Then there is more war._

_More death._

_And you are being torn apart._

__________

_Others come. Others like your children but not come, and an Other who is of those ones-not-like-your-children comes, and you begin to fight._

_It tries to absorb you, to engulf you entirely, but you refuse, you refuse._

_Your heart beats with the hearts of your people, and of your children, who hide, and wait._

_Then they come again._

_Your son calls others to his banners, and with the help of a daughter and another son, whose hearts all beat as one with the thump-thump of twining love, they take back you from the invaders._

_You throw off your chains, emboldened by the cries and triumphs of your people and your children._

_You are in all of them at that moment, in their determination and unshakeable spirits, in the proud woman and the dark-eyed man who refuse to let a group of invaders pass at the River._

_You are in the man with gleaming sword who slays your false child, your false son and wears a gleaming crown once more._

_You are in the man who marries the proud woman, and takes the dark-eyed man’s hand in his own with a smile like the rising sun._

_You could cry endless tears, if you were capable of such things._

_And you are so, so happy._

____________

_A new heart beats. A new heart beats and beats and beats._

_You watch this new, but not-new heart, even as your people are slaughtered and the dark-eyed man betrays you like a stab in the heart._

_You could watch the others, but, no._

_It is her. Her._

Daughter _._

___________

_You are there in the fields as she travels, in the ground she treads. You are there when magic flashes through her fingertips, you are there in the smile of your son when he looks upon her._

_You are there when she saves your people, one individual at first, a town, a city, then them all, and you are there when she wages war against the abominations that grow under the ground._

_You watch as she slays a great abomination, and you watch with a dark-haired witch, who places a hand on her belly in unconscious fondness, as your daughter heals your people._

_You are there when she takes a smaller throne, and you are there when she defends your people once, twice, again and again and again, against the things that try to wage war against each other, and she defends._

_You are there in the castle that is hers, you are there in the straight back of her leadership, you are there in the soft-smiles given to those she loves, and oh, she loves so many._

_Her heart, you think, must be even bigger than you ever imagined._

_________

_Your son comes for her. Comes for her, and you know._

_You are there when he takes her hand in his, much like his father did for his mother. You are there in his unswervable determination to marry her, despite all who may say otherwise. You are there in the heart of a crow given human form, who looks at her with eyes like roses. You are there in the heart of a woman like a red-haired shadow, who looks at her with eyes like glory._

_You are there in her, and you tremble and cry when she kneels, with her hands curving into your earth._

_And you shudder with great sobs as she whispers to you words only the two of you understand._

________

_You wrap around her._

_You will not let anyone hurt her. Not now, not ever._

_Your people’s hearts thunder along your own as you turn every ounce of your fury against those who would defy her, those invaders. The earth moves and shakes, and the very land itself will come to you daughter’s defense._

_Those who torment her meet the full force of your fury._

_You wrap yourself around your daughter with her heart of a lion, and you hold her carefully as you can._

_For you are Ferelden, and you love your Queen._


End file.
